


epistolary

by bloominsummer



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Friends to Fiances to Lovers to Husbands, I like making my own tags, M/M, Narrative Panels, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: An adolescence promise has Wonwoo falling in love with and getting engaged to his best friend—though not in that exact chronological order.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	1. 000. Entry ????

**Author's Note:**

> hola! this work is simply a place for me to post narrations for the twitter fic under the same name [here](https://twitter.com/bioominsummer/status/1329767762793619459) :]. 
> 
> if you're looking for a full ao3 work... take the first exit at the intersection. jk, jk. I'll have one out soon, fingers crossed~
> 
> tags & warning will be updated as we go, ones pertinent to each specific panel will be written in each chapter's beginning notes.

A tree begins with a seed. There are stages of germination it has to go through before the first leaves begin to form, before a flower blooms, before a fruit ripes. Hard work is often involved in nurturing the small seedling until it becomes a tall and sturdy tree, and Wonwoo thinks it’s more or less the same thing with people. Give them the right nutrient, offer them the proper care, put them in a suitable environment—and they’ll grow without bounds.

There’s a pine tree in the Jeon’s family home backyard. It’s been there as long as Wonwoo bothers to remember; its existence probably preceded the infrastructure of the house itself. Many windy days of his childhood were spent sitting against the trunk, the tree’s high branches offering him shade from pale rays of sunlight. He was most often accompanied by a book opened in his lap and his old Walkman on the ground next to him, instrumental music playing in his ears coming from the device.

Though fond of the activity as he was and still is, Wonwoo does it less and less and he gets older, all thanks to—

“So you have it, right?” The intrusive voice brings an end to his daydream. “What I told you to bring?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend. “Yes, Mingyu. I don’t see why we’re doing this.”

Mingyu and Wonwoo, too, had a humble beginning. Nowhere near as humble as a seed, he supposes, but Mingyu was never meant to be Wonwoo’s companion, nor Wonwoo meant to be his. Yet when Wonwoo’s younger brother blatantly rejected the manufactured friendship their parents tried to force upon them— _just because we’re the same age doesn’t mean we need to be buddies! I hate it!—_ and thus rejected _Mingyu_ in effect _,_ Wonwoo found himself utterly weak at the sight of wobbling lips and fresh tears brimming in those puppy eyes.

 _Mama,_ he remembers asking his mother, tugging at the hem of her yellow sundress, _can’t Mingyu play with me instead?_

His mother had smiled, warm, and reached down to ruffle Wonwoo’s unruly mop of dark hair, careful not to let her rings get tangled in the curls like they had many times before.

 _Of course he can, baby_.

How long ago was that?

Mingyu is already catching up to Wonwoo’s height now; the soft baby edges that used to make him irresistible are long gone, sharpened by the passage of time. Simple rejections no longer push him to the verge of tears. If anything, Mingyu’s the one breaking hearts left and right wherever he goes. Wonwoo doesn’t condone spreading or listening to rumours, but his nosier classmates seem to think he’s on a need-to-know basis on all things regarding Mingyu.

“Good,” Mingyu nods, satisfied with his answer.

He gets down on his knees right next to where a large chunk of Earth has been torn out from the ground and a gaping hole is staring back at the two of them. The younger boy pulls a black metal box from his side, allowing Wonwoo sight of it. As he extends a hand to Wonwoo, his intention is unmistakable.

From inside his pocket, Wonwoo retrieves the letter he’s written under Mingyu’s specific instructions. He hands the object of significance over to him and Mingyu inspects it for a moment, turning the envelope in his hand and studying its intricate wax seal. There’s no address nor any postage stamp, only a scrawled _Wonwoo_ at the top right corner to indicate that this one belongs to him.

Mingyu locks the box after placing his own letter inside it along with Wonwoo’s. He offers Wonwoo the key without looking up at him and Wonwoo secures it in the same pocket that previously held the letter. Then he watches Mingyu cover back the hole he had spent a good part of the morning digging.

Okay, look. The list of things he’d indulge Mingyu in is a very long one, but getting grimes beneath his pristine fingernails before a proper lunch is not included in that list.

“Are you finally going to tell me why we’re burying _your_ time capsule in _my_ backyard?”

Mingyu pats the once-more levelled ground with his hands a couple of times for good measures before he stands up and wipes the remnants of soil on his khaki shorts. Wonwoo frowns at the horrendous streaks of brown Mingyu leaves on the cream-coloured fabric.

“First of all, it’s _our_ time capsule,” he corrects Wonwoo’s diction, his tone matter-of-fact. “Second of all, everyone knows you bury one of these under or near a tree, and I only have a pond in mine.”

Upon finishing his sentence, Mingyu pulls out a handkerchief to clean his hands with. The handkerchief could have come first, _should_ have come first, then he wouldn't need to stain his pants. God, he's always backwards with his orders to the point that it becomes incredibly frustrating for the audience to watch.

And Wonwoo's always had front row seats to the mess that is Mingyu.

“Second of all,” Wonwoo challenges his reasoning, “your mother would kill you if you ruin her garden or go anywhere near her precious shrub of roses.”

“Why ask me the question you already know the answer to, then?”

“Alright," he concedes to Mingyu's point. "I just don’t understand your sudden interest in this. You sent me, what, a dozen text messages last night? All to make sure I play along.”

“I just wanted to do it,” Mingyu shrugs lightly, leading Wonwoo back toward the main house.

“That’s it?”

“I already answered your question.”

Well, he’s not wrong in that account. Wonwoo supposes there’s no point in trying to understand the inner workings of Kim Mingyu's mind. He imagines it’s incredibly similar to Daedalus’ Labyrinth in there. Impossible to navigate through without knowing the right tricks—or having the right guide.

“Just—" Look at that, he's already regretting his curtness just now. "I forget a lot of things, yeah?” That's true. Mingyu would probably lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body. “In 12 years, when we bust that thing back open, hopefully it’ll help to remind me of some important things.”

“12 years?”

They haven't really talked about how long the time capsule would be buried for, but 12 years? That’s quite a long time, isn’t it?

“12 years…” he gasps, shocked. Wonwoo seizes Mingyu's wrist, fingers locking the younger in a vice-tight grip as a means of grounding himself. “I’ll be 28!”

Mingyu scrunches his nose in disapproval, as though the concept of adulthood is offensive to him. For once, Wonwoo is inclined to agree with his point of view.

“Huh, that’s so old. You'd be so old then.”

He loosens his grip, raising his chin at Mingyu. “You’re only a year younger than me.”

“Well, that just means however old you are, I’ll be younger still.”

“What do you think we’ll be doing in 12 years?”

In an instant, Mingyu’s expression sours for a reason Wonwoo doesn’t understand. If he had to take an educated guess, it’s most likely the same reason behind the impulsivity of this morning’s agenda.

“Don’t know.”

Ah.

Two-letter answers to such an open-ended question?

How perfunctory of him—how telling it is of his current mood.

It must've been a big deal, then. Whatever it is that happened between the time Wonwoo saw him yesterday near twilight when Mingyu's chauffeur came to pick him up, and sometime around midnight when his phone started pinging with a flurry of notifications. 

It must've been something important, which raises the question of his indiscretion. Usually, Mingyu couldn't wait two minutes to tell Wonwoo about this thing that pisses him or that thing that doesn't sit right with him. Wonwoo casts a glance in Mingyu's, at the deep creases lining his forehead, and decides to steer the conversation topic away from the war zone. He'll come to share when he's ready, anyway.

“We might be married to someone by that time, right?” Wonwoo hums lowly. “That’s probably around the age when adults settle down.”

Now that he's said the words, he realises how the prospect seems entirely strange to him. It's like one of those natural phenomenons one might read about in newspapers or scientific journals, but won’t ever experience personally.

“Don’t worry,” Mingyu tells him, his usual juvenile ease replaced by a more serious undertone. “If no one wants you by then, I’ll take one for the team and get you off the market.”

He punches Mingyu on the shoulder for that impudent remark, though he barely puts any force behind his throw. As such, the younger boy is barely affected by the attack, laughing away Wonwoo's rejection to his heart’s utmost content. Good. At least he’s not frowning anymore.

“You are so inexplicably rude,” Wonwoo huffs in faux-offence. "And what if no one wants you instead?”

Mingyu makes a show of wiping the residual tears from the corner of his eyes. “That's not a problem. You can just marry me.”

Now _that_ thought makes Wonwoo shudder.

“The day pigs fly will come sooner," he says, making a show of rubbing his arm up and down to get rid of his goosebumps.

Seemingly unoffended by the repudiation, Mingyu simply bends down to take off his outdoor shoes. They best not track soil or mud inside the house, or it’ll give the household staff more work to do this afternoon. And unlike Mingyu, Wonwoo hates being a nuisance.

Mingyu steadies himself with one palm against the outer wall of the house and asks, “So what did you put in the letter?”

Wonwoo holds on to the younger's shoulder as he does the same, removing one boot after the other. “I’m not telling you that.”

Thankfully, Mingyu doesn’t push. “Fine.” They walk up the steps of the back porch and Mingyu holds open the door for him. “Should I ask the cook to prepare lunch?”

“No way,” Wonwoo protests immediately, catching on to the little ruse Mingyu is trying to trick him with. “You go wake up my brother and I’ll go to the kitchen.”

“Which Jeon am I supposed to wake up? Number one or number three?”

He cocks an eyebrow at him and Mingyu just stares blankly, waiting for a verbal answer. Wonwoo sighs. 

“Which one do you think?”

“Damn it—”

“Watch your language!”

“Damn it,” repeats Mingyu, stubborn as usual.

Wonwoo glances around quickly to make sure no one is eavesdropping on them. One word caught by the wrong person and Mingyu will get into trouble for his potty mouth. It has happened before and it will no doubt happen again, but when Wonwoo asked for permission to play with Mingyu in his brother’s stead, he unknowingly took on the responsibility of shielding Mingyu from all possible harm.

“I’m always stuck with the heavy-lifting in this arrangement,” Mingyu grumbles half-heartedly.

“Remember what we were doing just now?” Wonwoo gestures to the back door with his thumb. “I did you a favour. _Big_ favour. Now go.”

“Only if you promise to uphold your end of the deal.”

“What deal?!”

Today alone Mingyu has dragged Wonwoo out of bed so early after making him stay up late to write his future self a letter, then proceeded to make Wonwoo skip breakfast, which is the most important meal of the day. Now he still has the audacity to demand _more_ of Wonwoo? How dare he. 

“If in 12 years we both happen to be miserable, single dudes...” he trails off purposefully, for the sake of building tension.

The grin plastered on Mingyu’s face is shit-eating and Wonwoo wants to shove his palm toward his face, rearrange some of his features until the grin is no more.

"Then what?"

“Then we’ll just end both of our sufferings by marrying each other." Why does it sound so simple coming from him? "If you eat the pheasant, you also eat the egg and all that.”

Out of all the proverbs Mingyu needed to remember for his literature exam, this is the one he's chosen to use against Wonwoo. It essentially means killing two birds with one stone, and while Wonwoo wants to argue that neither of them is a bird and a marriage pact is the furthest thing from a stone, he knows that’s not the point of a proverb at all.

A wiser, older Wonwoo would have known not to make promises just because he thinks the need would never arise for him to follow through with his words. But this Wonwoo is young, this Wonwoo is green, this Wonwoo knows he’d definitely get a foot to the shin for trying to rouse his brother from his deep slumber. Considering his background as well as Mingyu’s, they’re more likely to have been married twice in 12 years than never been married at all.

He nods eventually, a small display of acquiescence. Mingyu’s grin morphs into a toothy smile and he extends a hand out for Wonwoo to shake.

“Just go wake him up, please,” Wonwoo says in an attempt to get Mingyu moving.

Shaking his head, Mingyu wiggles his hand in front of Wonwoo pointedly. It's abundantly clear what he wants, even clearer that he’s never going to leave without Wonwoo sealing the deal properly. Though exasperated by the younger’s antics, Wonwoo is also somewhat hungry, so he unceremoniously swings his palm at Mingyu’s outstretched hand.

He can feel his pulse beating right beneath his jaw when Mingyu effortlessly catches his flying limb and quickly brings it upward, brushing his chapped lips lightly against the back of Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo knows fully well that he’s only playing around, but the act still catches him by such great surprise, he can’t do anything but stand there and stare at Mingyu.

The younger boy releases him immediately after, Wonwoo’s hand falling lifelessly back to his side. He doesn’t bother to say anything else before turning around and walking toward the stairs. Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, either. All those books he’s read, all those words he’s memorised—they all fail him the same in this moment.

Mingyu goes to carry out his task, and Wonwoo makes his way to the kitchen to do find the cook.

His skin, the small stretch across which Mingyu's mouth has come into contact with, tingles with the ghost of a tender caress for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 꿩 먹고 알 먹는다's the proverb used ^^


	2. 031.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'll go get a ring / let the choir bells sing

The night is long and dragging, the conversations dull, the people who try to carry them with him unremarkable. Mingyu used to love these parties back when he was in his adolescent years. Without fail, his dad would ask for his company as he made his rounds among the guests and Mingyu gave it to him gladly. Then, the people attending were still a source of fascination to him.

He supposes ignorance also helped him enjoy the food and drinks provided. For years, Mingyu was naïve enough to not gauge the underlying purpose of the event: to groom him for succession. It wasn’t until his mother had told him he was to continue the family business after graduating college, that Mingyu saw a long-overlooked fact.

He was always the most clueless person at these functions.

The very same night the belated realisation dawned on him, Mingyu made a _scene_ in front of esteemed guests while eloquently voicing his objection on the matter. His mother was livid, which had hurt, but his father’s clear-cut disappointment left an even deeper wound.

When the dust settled, Mingyu ended up not yielding their request to leave music behind, but he did make a compromise to continue playing his part in the family as much as he can.

“It isn’t so bad this year, is it?” Wonwoo appears next to him, seemingly out of thin air. He clinks their crystal glasses together before taking a small sip of the bubbly liquid. “Stop glowering and it’ll be even better.”

He opens his mouth to refute, but then he hears an enthusiastic exclamation of “Well, hello there!” coming from his right.

Mingyu turns to find a middle-aged woman he’s never seen before in his life smiling at him and Wonwoo. Her mascara is slightly smudged upward over her eyelids, blood red lipstick faded from having tried the many delicacies a number of servers are carrying around the mansion on gilded trays.

“Is this the date for the night?”

Just in case she happens to be someone important to his mother, Mingyu refrains from rolling his eyes. He returns the smile and attempts to correct her bold assumption, but Wonwoo beats him to it.

“Yes, I’m his plus one. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“How polite!” she swoons excessively, holding out her hand for Wonwoo to take. “What’s your name, young man?”

His friend takes the lady’s hand. “Wonwoo.” A brief pause ensues as she waits for him to provide her with more information. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

How Mingyu hates it—the way her expression shifts in an instant. “Oh, a Jeon?”

The interest in her features becomes much more prominent. She gives Wonwoo a once-over, assessing him from the top of his head down to the soles of his leather shoes. Mingyu’s skin crawls with discomfort. All Wonwoo did to evoke such a response is give her his family name. Knowing that detail doesn’t mean she has the right to scrutinise him. Judge his value. Wonwoo’s not an _object_ , for heaven’s sake.

“As expected,” she nods in satisfaction, turning to Mingyu once more, “you have your mother’s exquisite tastes, Mingyu. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.”

Mingyu grits his teeth. His grip around the stem of his glass tightens, tight enough for it to almost break. The woman remains oblivious to his adverse reaction, but Wonwoo notices it— of course he does. He shoots Mingyu a quick warning look.

“You know, the two of you are standing underneath a mistletoe,” she comments, tone full of suggestion. “Look up, boys.”

Distracted by her unprompted revelation, Mingyu tilts his head back to confirm her observation. True enough, a small wreath of mistletoe dangles from the top of the passageway, a thin red ribbon interwoven with the green leaves.

“It’s bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe,” the woman says again.

Mingyu is reminded once again of how annoying she is.

“We’re not—” he's just about to say, when Wonwoo’s mouth brushes against his cheek, making him lose his footing.

“Aw. How cute!” She claps her hands in excess, slender fingers adorned with golden rings and gleaming gemstones. “But really, you should kiss properly to avoid bad fortune for the coming year.” The lady gesticulates to them in prompt. “Go on.”

He’s still six-feet deep in shock when Wonwoo leans in again, closing the distance between them effortlessly. Mingyu witnesses his eyes fall close as Wonwoo’s face comes near his. At the very last second, Wonwoo’s lifts his hand to seemingly cup Mingyu’s face, but in truth he’s placing his thumb strategically between their mouths. The whorls of his fingertip press against the grooves of Mingyu’s lips.

Though the extent of their contact is Wonwoo’s breath fanning over Mingyu’s philtrum, from the guest’s angle it easily looks like Wonwoo is kissing him. Their lips don't meet, yet when Wonwoo withdraws from his space, Mingyu’s heart is pounding as though he’d actually just been kissed. He stares at Wonwoo for a few moments, bewildered, while Wonwoo gives the lady a sweet, placating smile.

Where did he even learn such tricks from?

“What?” Wonwoo asks him when Mingyu keeps on staring after the lady has sauntered away. “I just thought it’s better to give her what she wants so she’d leave us alone.”

“No, I agree with you,” he nods curtly. Mingyu fights the urge to touch his lips—he can still feel Wonwoo’s breath flutter over the curves. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

His best friend quirks an eyebrow. “We’ve kissed before.”

“Yeah, once, when I was _twenty._ ”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Wonwoo shrugs lightly, already looking away from Mingyu to scan the crowd.

“It has,” he insists. Mingyu downs his champagne in one gulp and waves at a server to collect his empty glass. “I’m closer to thirty than I am to twenty now.”

Wonwoo purses his lips, either concerned or impressed by Mingyu’s drinking ability, then he circles his slim fingers around Mingyu’s wrist. “Let’s go feed the fishes for a bit.”

* * *

“Great,” Wonwoo straightens up, bringing his hand to his nose and cringing slightly. “Now my hands smell like pellets.”

Gaze averted to the decorative lights above their heads, Mingyu only shrugs in response. “You were the one who wanted to feed them.”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to get you away from nosy party-goers.” He playfully wipes his hands down the front of Mingyu’s blazer, making the younger frown. It turns into a small smile soon enough; Wonwoo’s frolicsomeness, rare as it was once, has always been infectious to him.

“Do you think your mom ever comes out here?” he asks Mingyu, looking around the open space, every inch of it handled with care by the professionals hired to do so.

“She only comes home to sleep in her coffin.”

Wonwoo outright ignores his vampire reference and clucks his tongue in disapproval. “What a shame. It’s such a pleasant garden, too.”

“I like your backyard better,” Mingyu response, half-automated. The days he spent in the Jeon's residence growing up are precious to him. Granted, Mingyu was mostly present to drag Wonwoo away from there, cajole the older boy into indulging whatever whims suit him at that moment. “The—” _tree,_ Mingyu almost says, and then he _remembers_. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Do you remember our promise?”

Wonwoo’s dark brows draw together. “What promise?”

“The one we made when we buried that time capsule in your backyard.”

His friend’s feature colours with confusion. “Uh?”

“We had an agreement,” Mingyu reiterates to him patiently. The memory replays in his head: the two of them standing in the hallway that connects the back porch to the main house, him kissing Wonwoo’s hand in a binding gesture. “If by the time we dig it up we’re both still single, then we’ll marry each other.”

Hearing his words Wonwoo laughs out loud, but his happy convulsions die down quickly as he realises Mingyu’s being a hundred per cent serious. “Are you joking?”

“Not even close,” says Mingyu, shaking his head. To his recollection, it's not yet time for them to rip open the Earth and read the letters they had written for their future selves, but the sand's running out on the hour glass as it is. “You do remember, right?”

“I remember saying something like that, but—” Wonwoo searches his face for signs of trickery, but he finds none, because there is none. The older man gulps and unconsciously takes a step back. “You’re not seriously collecting on that.”

“I am.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo’s tone rings a warning.

But Mingyu, in his elation of finding the perfect solution to his long-term problem, ignores him completely. “Look, it’s going to work! My mom’s hounding me about two things, right? One, my career. Second, my love life. If I appease her in the second aspect, then maybe she’ll lay off the first.”

And here’s what Mingyu likes, no, _loves_ , about his best friend: Wonwoo listens. To his craziest ideas, to his wildest dreams, to the most nonsensical, incoherent thoughts.

“And what’s in it for me?”

“I know,” Mingyu begins, treading the path carefully, “that your family has started asking you when you’re going to settle down. You have no problem skipping Christmas dinner because you knew your hyung will be there with his new spouse, and everybody at the table would have this expectation of you—to go next.”

His eyes widen, lips parted in surprise. The topic is something neither of them has brought up before; a silent understanding exists that Mingyu is to wait until Wonwoo can no longer contain his frustration regarding the issue and has to vent it out.

“Gyu, that’s—”

“We can always divorce later,” Mingyu tries to reassure him. It makes sense, doesn’t it? There’s no one he’d rather be doing this with than Wonwoo. “And we won’t make the process hard for the other person. We can insist on a simple prenup since we've basically known each other our entire lives anyway. My mom actually likes your family!”

“Hold up—”

“Woo, will you marry me?” he blurts out.

As soon as question escapes him, waves of regret wash over Mingyu. He should’ve at least gotten down on one knee, shouldn’t he? Wonwoo deserves that much, even if it’s not a genuine proposal. But it’s said and done, now and all Mingyu can do for the next couple of heartbeats is to anticipate Wonwoo’s answer.

It’s strange, because the next word that comes out of Wonwoo’s mouth is, “No,” and Mingyu thinks it’s the first time he’s ever heard Wonwoo say that to him.

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer) <3


End file.
